


Home is Where the Hearth is

by kleptoandpyro



Series: Coldwave Winter Week 2018 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bank Robbery, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Butt Slapping, Canon Era, Choking, Christmas Smut, Coldwave Winter Week 2018, Crossdressing, DCTV Secret Santa 2018, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feels, First Kiss, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Kleptomania, Lingerie, M/M, Mild S&M, Nipple Play, Panty Kink, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Pyromania, Sex in front of a fire, Sex on a pile of cash, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleptoandpyro/pseuds/kleptoandpyro
Summary: Len was never going to be a ‘fire guy’ but even he had to admit that a great shift came over the place, where before it had been dull and dark and empty, the hideout now felt warm, and dry and, god forbid, cosy. Almost homely. And as Mick crouched to stoke the merrily crackling log, and the warmth bled deeper into his bones, Len couldn’t help feeling a grand sense of accomplishment with the day’s events; and that good mood returned full force.A smirk started to pull at the corner of his mouth. Oh yeah, a celebration was certainly on the cards. But getting Mick on board had the potential to be...risky.Written for the DCTV Secret Santa 2018, and Day 1 of Coldwave Winter Week 2018:Heist/Job/Undercover | On the Run/Roadtrip + Extras #2 Fireplace, #9 Gift Exchange, #20 Yule Log





	Home is Where the Hearth is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HiddenViolet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenViolet/gifts).



> Written for @angsty-violet for the DCTV Secret Santa 2018, and also forming my submission for Day 1 of Coldwave Winter Week 2018:
> 
> Heist/Job/Undercover | On the Run/Roadtrip + Extras #2 Fireplace, #9 Gift Exchange, #20 Yule Log

Len cringed as Mick planted a thick boot against the door of the car and shoved it shut with great enthusiasm. The thing slammed with such an echo that Len swivelled around at the empty dock area to see if anyone had noticed.

No one. Just a bitter wind laden with fine snow and a single black cat prowling the water edge.

Only when he was sure the coast was clear and he’d shut the garage door behind the cooling getaway car him did Len speak.

“Jesus Mick, looking to get us caught after we already got away?” he groused, flicking on the light of the safehouse and bringing their makeshift home into sight.

But Mick only let out a, “Hah!” as he dropped the heavy sack of bearer bonds onto the off-balance table and looked at Len with a grin. “The idiots we had after us tonight couldn’t’ve found their ass with _both_ hands.” He took off his blackened goggles and gloves and went to grab more sacks. “We could’a gone back for seconds and they probably would’ve opened the door for us.”

The second and third bags soon joined the first and the table started to creak under the weight.

Despite the moment of tension, Len could only smirk back and drop his own loot next to Mick’s. ”And best of all: no Flash.”

Mick was positively bright eyed when he exclaimed, “Aah! Someone up there likes us,” and went to rummage around the refridgerator for a couple of beers.

Len doubted that, but he didn’t want to sully the good mood, not after the score they’d just made, and especially not how great he and Mick had worked together, tonight. It was rare that so many of the stars in a job aligned the way that they did; but from the poorly guarded bank, to the outdated security systems and the utter pathetic performance of the CCPD, Mick’s earlier comment probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Not to mention that Mick had really stepped up tonight and taken control of the situation; picking up on a security defect, doing one of the greatest getaway maneuvers Len had seen.

Textbook +1.

In fact, things had gone so well that Len was considering orchestrating a little celebration of sorts later on. Just the two of them. That is, if Mick was game, but judging by the whistling, his partner was in as good a mood as he. Better even.

Len walked back to the car and was about to lock up when a, “Hold up, there’s one more thing to come out the trunk,” stopped him in his tracks.

Len narrowed his eyes in confusion for a second and opened said trunk, but what he found wasn’t more loot or a car part or...napalm or the usual kind of stuff that Mick picked up, but a tarp covered mass sat dead center. Curiosity won over trepidation and Len pulled at an edge to reveal what looked like a giant pile of crap. ”...Unless I’m missing something here, Mick, I don’t think charred manure will make much on the black market.”

Mick came over, beer in hand. “It’s not crap, it’s a…” All of a sudden Mick seemed to lose the bounce in his step, and he seemed a little unsure of himself as he said, “...present.”

Len looked at it, then up at Mick. “Wow Mick, _you really shouldn’t have.”_

“You know, it’s a Christmas wood thing,” urged Mick, as if that suddenly made all the sense in the world.

“...A Yule Log,” Len repeated, mainly to himself, looking back at the gnarled, blackened mass only to realise it was a gnarled blackened corpse of wood. “Santa Claus and roasting chestnuts yada yada?”

Mick just shrugged his shoulders.  “There was a bunch of ‘em in a timber yard round back of the Casino where the car was stashed. So I nabbed it while you were loading the cash.”

Len was mildly impressed with that, considering he’d not noticed at all. But he’d been rather preoccupied with the hoard of cash in his hand, and Len was no magpie but near to a million dollars in one’s grasp tended to draw your focus away from pieces of scrap wood.

“And anyway, I didn’t take it for the _Holiday Cheer,_ I got it so we don’t spend another winter freezing our baubles off.”

He may have rolled his eyes at that but Mick was right. Central heating wasn’t a common luxury when you were trying to lay low and there had been times when even _Cold_ felt the effects of the winter months. So god knew how Mick had dealt with it.

Honestly though, it was a good idea, even if Len knew that the real reason his partner wanted it was probably none of those things, but likely the call of the flames. Len wouldn’t call him out like that, though, not tonight.

“Assuming you wanna move this bad boy to the fireplace, then?”

Why they even had a fireplace in here, Len had no idea.

After all, their safehouse was an abandoned garage on the docks not a stately home. It’s not like he was complaining, the place had good solid walls and surprisingly there were no holes or cracks to be found. There was electricity, a number of old cars and boats in the entranceway - to keep Mick busy on their off days - and through the second door, a kitchenette, a bathroom and even some backrooms which had previously been used as temporary sleeping spaces. Despite the peeling realtor sign on the entrance, it wasn’t listed anywhere, and the occasional fabric teddy bear stuffing littering the floor in odd places gave Len strong reason to believe that it has been used as a drug running hideout before he and Mick and come across it.

And the fact that no one had shown up in all the time they’d been using the place suggested it was - or had been - Santini...before he and Mick had put them out of business, naturally.

With a great effort, the log was loaded into the fireplace and Len straightened up, placing two palms on his lower back to ease his aching spine. Mick was unflappable, simply brushing his palms on his jeans like he’d just shifted an empty cardboard box, and immediately pointed his gun into the center with a manic grin.

With a thunderous roar which never failed to make Len back up a little, the heatgun shot out a stream of flames, coating the once barren fireplace with a blanket of fire.

The effect was immediate, Len felt his skin heat gloriously and a shiver raced down his spine. He hadn’t realised how cold it had been in here, the adrenaline from the car chase masking the true temperature of the room.

“Beautiful…” Mick murmured, trailing off slightly.

Len was never going to be a ‘fire guy’ but even he had to admit that a great shift came over the place, where before it had been dull and dark and empty, the hideout now felt warm, and dry and, god forbid, _cosy_. Almost homely. And as Mick crouched to stoke the merrily crackling log, and the warmth bled deeper into his bones, Len couldn’t help feeling a grand sense of accomplishment with the day’s events; and that good mood returned full force.

A smirk started to pull at the corner of his mouth. Oh yeah, a celebration was certainly on the cards. But getting Mick on board had the potential to be...risky.

“I may have gotten you a little present too, partner.” It was said casually but Len made sure to inject a little something extra in the ‘partner’, enough to be noticed, but also not so much as it couldn’t be taken as innocent and brushed under the carpet if need be...not that they _had_ a carpet.

To the untrained eye, Mick didn’t react, but Len could see the slight stilling of his body and the miniscule tilt of head that meant he was now looking halfway behind him, away from the mesmerising flames. A positive sign. “Present, huh.”

“Hmm, it isn’t wrapped yet but...it can certainly be arranged.”

Len _did_ have something he could give to Mick if it came down to it, but a supercharger for the Trans Am he picked up at the junk yard wasn’t near as good as what he had planned. Plus it was kinda awkward to wrap.

At Len’s comment Mick turned fully on the spot and looked straight into Len’s eyes, the snapping fire behind giving him a smoldering halo, and Len fidgeted ever so slightly at the imposing sight; the power it suddenly gave Mick.

He still looked straight back, face neutral, but eyes shining, he hoped, with something... _more._ An invitation.

A realisation seemed to roll over Mick and Len knew this was it. The offer was now in the air. All Len had to do was wait for a sign that his partner was interested.

Their relationship was...different. They sure as hell weren’t ‘together’, both men would balk at that implication and probably never look one another in the eyes ever again, but they weren’t exactly _not_ either. And the times they found themselves on the _not_ side of that fence, they certainly weren’t exclusive; Mick had his girlies on the side and Len...well, he got by just fine. It was a partnership that had grown and solidified over 30 long years and gone in a direction that neither man had planned for nor expected. But whatever it was, when it came down to it, trust was at the foundation.

Len couldn’t really remember the first time they had crossed that line, but they weren’t young, in their thirties, most likely. That trust didn’t come straight away, but once it did, the result was...very fulfilling.

But Len never ruminated on the label, cos there was no point; Mick would swear blind he was straight when asked, and Len...didn’t care. He also preferred deflecting. Not that anyone apart from his sister would be ballsy enough to ask such a personal question in the first place.

However, despite the nature of the bond they’d forged, it still all hung on the edge of a knife. It was there because it wasn’t discussed, and thus it never became this elephant in the room. So this dance was necessary. They were there for each other when it was needed; organic, free of expectation and familiar. No strings attached.

Mick flicked his eyes down over Len’s parka and back up again so quick that Len almost missed it. “...As long as I get to unwrap it.”

Len closed his eyes, smiling as he turned away. He pointed to the piles of loot still punishing the table as he passed them. “You will. If you’re a _good boy_ this year.”

He heard a chuff from behind him, and the sound of heavy footfalls heading in the direction of the table. A chair scuffed the floor and the flapping noise of thousand of dollars, hitting wood, filled the space as Len went into a backroom to prepare.

“Then you might wanna practise what you preach, _Santa._ ”

 

* * *

 

When Len emerged about 20 minutes later, he wasn’t fully prepared for the wall of heat to smack into him like it did. It was like entering a sauna. But rather than hot coals heating the joint he was practically faced with a viking fire pit; by the height of the flames now licking the apex of stone of the fireplace, it was hardly surprising that Mick had decided a ‘top up’ or two was necessary while Len was out of the room.

Of course, the parka wasn’t helping, but the bare feet on the still cold stone made it tolerable.

Mick had apparently relocated to the large sofa opposite the hearth; the football was on the crappy TV and piles of cash still lay untouched at his side in their bags, but, as expected, his partner was too transfixed on the dancing flames to continue cataloguing.

“I see you’ve counted all $500 of the cash, what would I do without you,” Len drawled, sarcastically.

Mick snapped out of his reverie, finished swigging his beer and put it on the side table. He didn’t answer Len, instead standing up and turning away from the fire to face him as he approached.

Len wasn’t surprised that Mick didn’t finish his count, or barely start it in this case, not with such a thing hanging over his head, and the yule log providing such a show. Cos this...this didn’t happen very often. It’s not like Len was a prude, far from it, it was just that they couldn’t demand this level of intimacy from each other too often. Like crossing the streams of their guns, the release of energy was often spectacular, and carrying on like that would drain them both.

Len sauntered over to Mick, slow and deliberate, and stood about an arm’s length away.

Mick hadn’t changed, still sporting his signature grey shirt and jeans. He was all broad shoulders and thick set jaw, brimming with macho confidence but for a small twitchy energy. He still managed to scoff, “What’s with the get-up,” pulling at a blue toggle and letting it pop back into place. “Didn’t think Captain _Cold_ got cold.”

Len just continued to stand and smirk. He already had a clever response on his tongue, but he had to stop himself; he wasn’t in villain mode anymore. This was about showing some appreciation after all. Captain Cold was no longer in the room, only Len.

He paused before saying in a low voice, “Thought you said you wanted to unwrap your present?”

This was it. The last chance to back out and walk away. Everything was in place now. The last piece in the puzzle was Mick. Len caught unsurety, want, curiosity and lust all flash across Mick’s face before he seemed to school himself.

Taking a step closer, and reaching out slowly, his thick calloused fingers took hold of the delicate zipper and dragged it down. Len didn’t look, he wanted to watch Mick’s face carefully for any signs of distress; his...outfit tonight was a little... _different_ after all. And although he knew it was up his partner’s alley, the jury was still out on whether it was going to be too much; Mick didn’t always deal well with change.

But the low throaty growl that erupted from Mick when his parka was grabbed and eventually pulled open let Len know without a shadow of a doubt that he’d hit the spot.

“... _Damn Leonard.”_

Len felt the barest hint of a blush climb his cheeks. He wasn’t usually so affected by words, but those two coming from Mick in that moment gave him a rush of satisfaction. After all, seeing your male partner of 30 years stood before you in nothing but lingerie was bound to be a shock.

Mick pushed the thick coat off Len’s shoulders almost reverently and it hit the floor in a woosh of air, leaving Len bare before Mick in naught but the underwear. The proximity of the fire was scalding on his chilled skin, but he held firm letting the light cast flickering shapes all over him as it danced; almost like his very skin was burning for Mick.

And by the look of the slack muscles in his face, Mick appreciated that decision.

Len had decided on a delicate gray underwire bra laced with moments of black filigree. The cup was small but still gave him some shape. The panties were of the same design, cupping him exquisitely and leading over his pelvis and between his thighs to accentuate the plump globes of his ass. He’d felt...surprisingly OK about putting them on, not even a hint of awkwardness, like he’d been doing it for years. He couldn’t decide if he was more tantalised or concerned with that.

“You’re not the only one with sticky fingers,” he murmured, making sure to tip his head in the direction of the log, glowing amber, beside them.

But Mick paid it no heed, only swallowing heavily and letting his eyes roam down Len’s front. “You swiped ‘em.” It was more a statement than a question.

Len let a stray index finger trace the underside of his bra. “When we took that shortcut through the department store last month to lose the cops.”

It had been a spur of the moment decision to take the set while laying low in the women’s section; he’d seen a Victoria’s Secret in the bathroom of the safehouse a day earlier and, after two full seconds of thought, checked the size and crammed them in his parka while blending in behind a stand; it was a good thing Mick wasn’t exactly subtle with his likes.

“Turn around.”

Like the fact that Mick was an ass man, through and through.

Len lowered his eyes coyly and slowly twirled around, making sure to sway his hips just so. It only took a 180 and peering over his shoulder with his bottom lip between his teeth before Mick was upon him. Thick hands grabbed onto his hips harshly pulling his bare ass against the rough denim, and he had to grab onto Mick to stop himself from toppling.

Just like that, the roles were reversed. Back on the _other_ side of that fence.

“ _Look at you_ ,” growled Mick into his left ear, and by god if that didn’t go straight to Len’s cock, “looking so _pretty_ for me.”

If anyone else was to call him pretty he’d deck them without a moment’s hesitation, but snarled from Mick’s lips he felt his body enflame.

Mick squeezed his hips even harder, rutting against Len. His hardening cock rubbed obscenely between Len’s cheeks pushing around the thin seam of lace; he was surprised at the strength of the moan that was driven from him as his pucker was nudged; but considering the little surprise he had taken care to prepare, down there, he probably should’ve been expecting it.

One thing was for certain, the sensation of scratchy soot covered denim on his vulnerable skin was maddening.

“Hehehe,” Mick chuckled, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on him. He dragged his hands up Len’s taught stomach to cup and fondle his chest.

Len’s head tipped back onto a firm collar and he sighed.

“Looking like this, you ain’t looking for anything soft tonight. I bet you’d let me do anything to you,” came the low rumble, accompanied by the sensation of a solid finger and thumb pushing down the cups to squeeze and pull at his nipples.

Len let out a strangled gasp and grabbed at Mick. “ _Fuck Mick.”_

“Wouldn’t you.”

Len could only squeeze his eyes shut and suck air in through his teeth and vaguely nod as the nubs were held hostage. He didn’t know how long the teeth had been teasing the skin of his throat and quite frankly was getting concerned at his observation skills. With his fingers, and his bulge and his mouth working Len, Mick had reduced him to a sweating, moaning mess and he’d only been at it 5 minutes.

“Captain cold, toughest son of a bitch on the streets, but in here,” Mick pulled away for a second to land a stinging smack on his right ass cheek and Len gave a voiceless yelp, “you’re just a little hussy looking to get dicked down.”

The dirty talk had never really been his thing, but he knew it was Mick’s. He’d heard him with women before, his deep voice carrying through the walls of their shared abodes as he talked himself into a frenzy. And the powerplay element was real; knew that Mick got a real kick out of seeing Len so submissive and coy. Despite Mick being the bigger, stronger man, it was always Len who called the shots, Len who decided where they went and what they did; Len could understand the need to be on top after playing second fiddle for so long; that was the way their arrangement had always been between them: Mick always wanted to have Len and Len always _wanted_ Mick to have him. And he knew the exact word which would ensure that he would.

“Yes,” he whispered, voice already threadbare. “Anything for you... _Boss._ ”

The growl was the only warning he got before he was turned roughly and forced to his knees before Mick. His back now to the fireplace, the yule log baked his ass and soles of his feet and he had to crawl toward Mick, unbuckling his jeans; fleeing one fire to get to another. He was sure it made a pretty picture.

“Yeah, Lenny, crawl over here,” cooed Mick backing up and seating himself on the sofa, pulling out his thick cock, “come and beg for it.”

He took his time, swaying his ass all the while. He stroked his palms up Mick’s thighs and licked his lips at the sight of his partner’s naked cock. Mick wasn’t long but he was thick, and _veiny_ , and Len recalled times previous when they were together and he would run his tongue over each and every one, driving Mick mad with need. Not tonight, though, his own cock strained wetly against the lace of his panties and by the state of Mick’s own flushed head he wasn’t looking for a night of teasing either.

“What do you want.”

Len swallowed. “I want your cock, Mick.” God it sounded so lewd.

Mick grinned, caddishly, slowly stroking himself before Len’s eyes. “Where do you want it, Lenny.”

He jutted his chin forward. “In my mouth, Mick.”

“Huh,” said Mick, pointing the head towards Len’s mouth and dragging it across the entrance. Len only managed to part his lips and chase the spongy tip with a quick tongue before it was gone and Mick was back to stroking himself, looking down at Len with glazed eyes.

“How badly you want it?”

Len knew Mick was going to make him work for it, so he lowered his shoulders to Mick’s thighs and arched his back as much as could kneeling down, making sure Mick could see his fire illuminated panty-clad ass over his head. When the hand stilled but for a moment, Len knew he had Mick’s attention. “I’ve been thinking about it all damn day, ever since you noticed the new alarm systems hadn’t been installed at the bank despite my recon saying differently; noticing that the model wasn’t water resistant like its successor, tipping the water cooler over it so it couldn’t go off...you don’t know how much that aroused me, Mick. Seeing you dick the system like that. Seeing you notice something I didn’t.”

The hand had started moving again, quicker and firmer this time, but Mick’s eyes were actually starting to close now, just listening to Len’s voice as he jerked himself. Another one of Mick’s kinks that Len had picked up on: praise.

“And when the cops did start chasing the car, timing it so the tram would block the road then melting the track so it blocked off the whole squad, letting us get away scott free…” Len actually had to take a breath because he was actually starting to excite at the memory. “Honestly, Mick, I wanted nothing more than to drop to my knees right there in the road and show my appreciation.”

Mick let out a low groan and looked directly at Len, so Len continued.

“Wanted you to know how badass you were, outsmarting the bank, losing the cops, impressing the hell out of me…So yeah, Mick, I want your cock in my mouth. Want it down my fucking throat.” And that was no word of a lie.

Len actually let out a pleased sigh when Mick grabbed his head and finally shoved him down onto his cock, cos he’d never admit it outside these sessions, but he actually really enjoyed giving oral sex. There was something about being so utterly submissive to your partner, allow them to fuck your mouth while you kneel there and take it, but also still holding most of the cards; controlling their pleasure and making them fall apart.

Mick however was definitely of the ‘fuck your mouth’ camp though, gripping both sides of Len’s face and driving his cock home; it was a good thing Len was experienced because Mick wasn’t exactly gentle; the foreplay starting to take its toll.

“Ugh look at you Lenny, all dolled up for me, mouth stuffed with my fat cock; you can’t say anything smart now, huh, just gotta swallow me down while I fuck your throat. No orders in here, no bossing anyone around. Central’s kingpin worshipping my cock like a common whore…” and on it went.

Len had resorted to relaxing his jaw and just letting Mick have his way; all he had to do was breathe and suck and keep his eyes fixed on Mick’s; make sure he knew that Len was here, kneeling for him, taking his cock and feeling his balls slap his chin; loving it.

It seemed to pay off though cos it wasn’t too long before his mouth was empty again, a trail of drool making its way down his chin as the thick shaft was pulled out. He coughed wetly.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Lenny,” rasped Mick, standing and taking himself in hand again. “Gonna ruin those pretty panties and make you never forget exactly who called the shots tonight. Want you to feel me on our next job, reminding you that it doesn’t matter how cool you look standing there with your gun, being all smart for the Flash...you ain’t the _real_ Boss.”

Another shiver raced down his spine as Len also got to his feet, his knees at least thankful for the reprieve. “ _Yes, Boss."_

Mick kicked a sack of money over to clear a path towards Len, and Len watched it topple over spilling the bills onto the floor...and, despite the new fire hazard it posed, he got a crazy idea. But Mick was already on him, spinning him round to face the hearth and rutting his slick cock against Len’s panties, smearing pre-come and spit all over the lingerie as held Len’s hips firm enough to bruise.

Len knew if he wanted to go through with his idea, he’d have to move quickly while Mick was still sane enough to listen...Plus, it’s something he’d always kinda wanted to do.

“You wanna fuck me, Mick? Right here in front of the _fire?”_

Another low growl and the hard cock jutted directly onto his asshole drawing forth another hiss from Len.

“Then how about we make it more comfy, hmm? After all, would be a shame to let all this cash just go to waste…”

Len felt Mick still. He turned and looked at said cash, then turned back to face him. Len could practically hear the cogs turning in his partner’s brain. A palm connected with his ass sharply and he sucked in a breath.

“Kinky little bastard.”

It was a great idea really, he couldn’t believe he’d never thought of it before; then again emptying sacks of stolen cash onto the floor in front of a roaring fire with the sole intention of banging on it was very ‘Bonnie and Clyde’, but the appeal was definitely there; watching Mick empty the sacks one by one and seeing all those bills spread out so perfectly like a carpet, the cash that _he’d_ stole. It was one thing stealing it, but actually fucking on it, covering it with your body and marking it with your fluids, was a whole new level of claiming. After this, it would be theirs, and theirs alone, no matter how many hands it passed between. It was a thought that made Len’s cock jump visibly.

He couldn’t wait.

Making sure to keep his eyes fixed on Mick, he lay down slowly on the bed of cash, almost keening at the novelty of it, and spread himself languidly. Len could only imagine what he looked like; Captain Cold in lingerie, reclining on a bed of stolen cash in front of a fire, like a damn sexy calendar.

Apparently it was an appealing sight cos Mick was on him in a shot, jeans pushed off, shirt discarded, and a wall of strong, scarred flesh surrounded Len. The calloused hand that arrived to grip his throat and push him back onto the pile of cash only served to turn him on more.

The heated gaze in Mick’s eyes as he took in every inch of Len crackling with firelight was indescribable. His cock was positively drooling, leaving drip after drip of precome on Len’s navel.

“ _Where_ -”

“Parka,” Len responded without missing a beat.

Mick briefly let go to lean away, rummage through the pockets of the discarded coat and extract a small lube. There was no condom; it had never been a secret that Mick preferred to fuck raw, and Len had always been adamant about regular testing; even if that meant during lock up.

“But you’ll probably not need much of that,” said Len, a little breathless already, indicating to the lube in Mick’s hand.

At Mick’s confused expression, Len simply rolled over onto his belly, keeping his forearms on the money while raising his ass high onto knees; the position afforded Mick the perfect view of his submission, and Len idly mused that the term ‘money shot’ now had a literal meaning.

He peered suggestively over his shoulder. “See for yourself.”

There were several moments of inactivity as Mick stared at Len’s ass poised so perfectly before his weeping cock, and Len couldn’t resist the little wiggle of his hips as took in the reverence.

Soon enough there was a tough hand gripping an ass cheek, and another pulling aside the seam of the panties to reveal what Len _really_ wanted Mick to see.

“ _Fuck, Leonard…”_

He couldn’t help it. “Well, if you pull it out, you’ll get to.”

The butt plug was a new experience; sure he’d used them before on himself but never pre-prepared like this; they weren’t a _kinky_ pair after all. Really it was just practical, and the little blue gem on the end was just the icing on the cake really.

But Len didn’t give it anymore thought once a thick finger and thumb started to pull on the jewel, and he _keened._ Cos the thing was thick and brushing so beautifully against his prostate with every nudge. It came out with a squelch, and he would’ve grimaced at that except he was trying not to shake from the wave of pleasure which rolled down his spine at its removal.

“Gonna bury myself so deep in your ass you’ll feel it for weeks, Lenny, gonna mark you with come, gonna _own_ you.”

“Yes, yes, Boss. Need you to fuck me, need your cock so bad.” He felt so empty without the plug that there was no word of a lie in that. He needed Mick _now_. “Well? Want an invitation?”

The ass slap wasn’t totally unexpected but he still let out a yelp which turned into a quivering moan as Mick entered him in one. He vaguely felt a pressure and then heard the sound of frustration and fabric ripping but all he could do was try not to sound too pathetic at the sensation of being filled completely by a raw cock. Once Mick’s pubic hair tickled his ass, and the hot thighs connected with his, did Len allow himself to let out the breath he’d been holding.

“So _tight_ , so wet for me. You been wanting his cock all day haven’t you, Lenny. Should’ve bent you over in the square, all those cops watchin’. Could’ve made Cold my bitch right there and you woulda loved every second.”

All this was said while Mick slowly pulled out completely then thrust to the hilt back. The slow deep strokes were taking Len’s breath away, and he couldn’t even let out a squeak.

“Cos in here you ain’t some big shot, you belong to _me_. Gonna own you Lenny, gonna make you _mine_.”

Mick seemed to get a power boost from his own words, or maybe it was just the flames picking up in energy when a piece of the wood shifted in place, but whichever oxygen was fuelling whichever fire, Len was the one bearing the heat.

Mick started slamming into him and Len could only let out a strangled, “FUCK!” before he resigned himself to grabbing wads of cash in a white knuckle grip and holding on for dear life and limb.

Soon the safehouse was filled with the wet, slapping sounds of their fucking and the roaring crackle of the log in front of Len’s head.

He was on fire, his knees would be ruined come the end, and his back would suffer from being arched so long, and he’d likely never sit again between Mick’s punishing thrusts and the crisp spanks that were raining down on his unguarded backside, but Len was in heaven.

No thinking, no planning, just lying on the spoils of their heist taking Mick’s cock over and over and giving his partner all the pleasure he deserved.

Giving up complete control went against every fibre in his being except for one instance, right here, right now when Mick was the ‘Boss’, Mick was the one taking care of everything, and Len was just...Len.

He took himself in hand, the panties long ripped and hanging useless over his hips, and matched his strokes with Mick’s thrusts.

“So fuckin’ hot Lenny, you touchin’ yourself for me. You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a mess all over that cash?”

Len groaned.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“ _Deeper_.”

If Mick was bothered by the use of a command rather than an answer, he didn’t show it. He simply stopped briefly to cover Len’s body with his own, planting his fists on the cash mound either side of Len’s waist so they were completely flush. When Mick picked up the pace again, Len could only moan into the bills at the new angle.

He was getting close, a new type of fire pooling in his navel, and by the constant stream of dirty talk now he knew Mick was too, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more, he needed...

“I want to see you, Mick.”

Mick stopped completely.

It had been blurted out before Len could think about what he was doing. What _was_ he doing? He twisted a little so his face was no longer buried in cash. “Want to see your face.” He _did?_

It was a make or break request. They’d never had sex face to face before; except for the occasional times Len had rode Mick, which didn’t fully count. They’d always fucked this way, carnal, quick and hard, either on a surface or against a wall. Looking into each other’s faces, each other’s _eyes_ , was something you did when you were a couple and Len and Mick weren’t a _couple._

Len didn’t know why this time was different, perhaps he was getting sentimental in his middle age, but it was too late to take it back now.

Mick pulled out and for one heartstopping second, Len thought the heat was going to leave his back for good and he was going to be left there, alone but for the hundreds of thousands of dollars he was knelt over, forced to jerk himself off and face an awkward reunion in the morning. Their partnership forever changed.

But he didn’t get to think on what-ifs for much longer as he was promptly grabbed and flipped onto his back, his spine instantly sighing in relief at being unfolded.

Mick had resumed his position over him, except now they were face to face; every scar and blemish on Mick’s chest illuminated by the firelight, every emotion on his face right there for Len to see: anxious...but wanting. Len couldn’t believe that this was really happening _Mick_ spreading Len’s legs open with gentle hands and pointing himself at his pucker, _Mick_ pushing Len back, almost lovingly, until he was horizontal once more.

“...Like this?” he grunted out, not quite meeting Len’s gaze.

Len let out a small relieved breath. “Yeah, like this, Mick.”

He was entered once more, but so much slowly this time, more languidly, and his legs rose of their own accord to hug Mick’s waist. The new angle was exquisite, and Len couldn’t help close his eyes and open his mouth at the stretch. He felt the pleasure race down his spine and he couldn’t help the blissed out grin. When he opened his eyes again, Mick was looking directly at this face, eyes slightly glazed.

There was no dirty talk now, nothing degrading in Mick’s staring, only desire, like Mick was looking at a captivating flame, and Len couldn’t help feel flirtatious under the new attention. He pulled down the cups of his bra and squeezed and fondled his own breasts, biting his lip. “Well, Boss, you gonna fuck me or what?”

This seemed to get Mick’s attention because a low rumble emitted from his throat and he drove home once more.

But the mindless fucking was gone, the carnal ruts replaced with purposeful thrusts, Mick seemingly intent on making Len feel every inch of him. Len wrapped his legs further around Mick for more anchorage and reveled at the intimacy it created. Mick was all solid bone and strong muscle, rippling with effort and flowing with sweat. He was looking at Len like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and considering they were still next to a roaring fire, Len knew it was a huge compliment.

Looking at all that flesh, scarred and matted with burned skin, Len felt a renewed appreciation for his partner, what he went through at the warehouse fire all those years ago, the pain tolerance he must’ve had and the willpower to survive such an ordeal. Mick had always been there for him, defended him, fought for him, followed him into any situation and has always been on the other side at the end of it.

There was no-one he trusted more, no one he could envision sharing his life with, his body with in such a way.

He didn’t know what was going through his partner’s head, but he was damn close, and going off the irregularities of his thrusts, Mick wasn’t far behind.

“So damn beautiful, Lenny, gonna mark you, gonna fill you with my come and make you squirt on my cock.”

“ _Yes.”_

He’d been jerking himself to Mick’s rhythm and he was close, _so close._  
  
“No one else is gonna have you like this, fuck you so good and deep.”

Len didn’t know where the possessive talk was coming from but it was hitting all his buttons tonight; the thought of Mick standing sentinel while Len negotiated with the underworld of Central, or in bars, keeping a solid presence behind him, watching, listening to his meetings. Would Mick just stand by while other men and women flirted with him? Or would he drag them away into a back room or back home to fuck his brains out and remind him who he belonged to?

Mick shifted down so he was lying directly atop Len, most of the weight on his forearms, their stomachs flush, and Len idly wondered if he’d said that last part out loud.

Every thrust rubbed Mick’s navel deliciously wet against the underside of Len’s cock and he nearly mewled at the new stimulation.

Mick’s face was inches from his, now. They’d never been so close. He couldn’t tear his eyes off the glowing ones reflected in the fire; Mick looked positively godlike.

“Your body belongs to me, Leonard, the only cock you’ll ever need is _this one._ ” And Mick thrusted extra hard for good measure, making Len suck in a strangled breath. “You get yourself fucked by another man then I’ll just fuck you even harder, even deeper, so good you’ll get wet just thinking about it.”

Len’s fingernails were probably leaving grooves in Mick’s shoulders but he didn’t care. He could feel the heat coiling, the sweat collecting behind his knees. Mick’s words were sending thrills through him, painting such a vivid picture in his mind...he was _so close._

“ _Please Mick, please!”_ He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for.

There was breath at his left ear as his partner brought his face to the crook in Len’s neck, and Len heard a series of shallow breaths as Mick started to lose rhythm. “ _Mine,_ Lenny, you’re all _mine!”_ he growled out, while a great shudder took over his body and Mick came, thrusting deep inside with jerky pulses.

Len arched his back in a silent howl as the sensation tipped him over the edge, spurting between their bodies. He clawed at Mick’s back, squeezing him with his thighs in an attempt to bring them closer and chase the pleasure singing in his pelvis.

Mick relaxed fully onto Len, letting his full weight pin him into the pile of cash - now ruined probably - as he rode out the last of the aftershocks.

Len’s legs were trembling and he was panting like a dog, drenched with sweat, his bra now sticking to him, but it was the most satisfied he’d felt in a long time.

The high had barely started its descent when Mick slipped out of him, utterly spent.

“All yours, Mick,” Len replied to the air, now minutes after the fact, still trying to slow his breathing.

Mick rose back up onto his forearms and looked directly at Len, taken aback, his face flushed with afterglow.  “...What did you say.”

Len didn’t know where the words were coming from, nor why he was responding to what was almost surely just dirty talk; growled at him in the heat of the moment. But tonight was apparently a night of firsts and who was he to go off brand.

“...All yours, Mick. Always.”

Only when he’d said it again, did he realise that he meant it. And right now, bathed in fire, looking up at Mick’s face, covered in Mick’s scent, did he realise he needed Mick to hear it, too. Years of rushed blowjobs and quick impersonal fucks in the backseats of cars, prison cells and temporary hideouts had always been their arrangement, never going any further than blowing off steam with another body.

At least that’s what they’d always told themselves.

_Had it always been leading up to this?_

They just looked at each other for long moments, each man quietly processing in their own way.

Len didn’t know who initiated it, perhaps it was both of them, all he knew was he was rising up to meet Mick’s mouth as it was descending to meet his, an action riskier than any job they’d ever pulled, with a payoff that was completely unknown.

The contact was gentle and unsure at first, Mick’s lips surprisingly soft against his, yet tense like a flighty deer ready to bolt back into the forest at any given moment.

This was unexplored territory for both of them; they had never shared such an intimate moment, never _kissed_ before.

It took a little time to find a rhythm, but once they did, mouths were angling against each other, tongues dancing, breath stolen as they went deeper. Only when they separated did Len realise that his hands were gripping the back of Mick’s head and one of Mick’s had stolen beneath Len’s nape.

For once in his life, Len didn’t know what to say. What _did_ you say after a first kiss 30 years in the making?

It was a few moments before Mick came to his rescue. “Don’t s’pose we still gotta count all this.”

Len blinked. A Captain Cold-esque smirk began to form on his face and just like that, the chasm between partners and _this_ lessened considerably. _“_ You may have to peel a few Benjamins off my ass but. _..You can count on it.”_

The fire gave out a merry snap as a few bills were blown into it from the force of Mick’s punch. The sock to the face wasn’t totally unexpected. And Len was glad that despite this ‘new arrangement’ there were at least some aspects of their partnership that were never going to change.

**Author's Note:**

> Come bitch at me in our Arrowverse multishipping Discord Server: [The Flarrowverse Shipyard](https://discord.gg/D4RFsRq)


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